


Asses of Fire

by Jaiden_S



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Humor, M/M, Mild Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-15
Updated: 2012-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-12 05:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel drives a hard bargain. Erestor finds out exactly how hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Asses of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> bookofnicodemus challenged e_p_kitty and me to write a fetish!fic. Who knew ginger could be used for such devious purposes?  
> *plans weekend run to Kroger*
> 
> Here it is, written in half an hour with no beta and heavily influenced by Pinot Noir.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Glorfindel? Is all of this really necessary?”

“Absolutely. Don’t move.”

“Listen. I have a case of Mirkwood wine that has never even been touched. I’ll give you the entire thing if you will just stop whatever it is you are doing.”

“Erestor. Down. Now.” The tone of Glorfindel’s voice left no room for argument.

Erestor sighed and lay back down on the wooden table. Of all the idiotic things he had done – and there had been many of them – this by far topped the list.

~*~

It had all started innocently enough. Celeborn announced his intention to travel to Imaldris with no warning or planning whatsoever, as per usual. Elrond whipped the entire staff into a frenzy in preparation for his arrival. The task of securing an escort from the far border fell to Erestor.

Had the guest been any other Elf, escorts would have been easily found. As it stood, however, there was no Elf left in Imaldris who hadn’t heard of Celeborn’s bizarre nighttime ritual involving cucumber poultice and saddle oil. Oddly enough, every single member of the guard was busy that particular week. All but one.

“Please, Glorfindel. I’m begging you! There is nobody else left to ask…you are my last hope. Elrond will run me through with his sword if there is no escort for Lord Celeborn.”

Glorfindel sniffed with exaggerated indifference. “Remind me again why I should help you. I see no benefit in doing so.”

“There will be one less funeral for you to attend, thus leaving you free to pursue whatever sort of sordid entertainment you choose,” growled Erestor in frustration.

“Hmm. I think not,” came the casual reply. Glorfindel smirked and raised his drink to Erestor in a mock salute. “But thank you for asking.”

Frantic pleas never appealed to Erestor, who thought himself above such things. Suddenly, groveling seemed like a valid option. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Dammit Glorfindel, what do you want?” he seethed through gritted teeth.

Glorfindel smiled at him with the most asinine grin of cocky smugness that Erestor had ever seen. It took everything in him not to slap it off of his face.

“What do I want?” Those dancing blue eyes glimmered with the tiniest hint of danger. Erestor chose to ignore it.

“Are you deaf? Yes! For the love of Eru! Just name it! Whatever it is, consider it done! Blast! Consider it done with whipped cream and a cherry on top!” Erestor howled in ripe irritation.

Oh, how he had come to regret those words. Even as they hung in the air like dandelion seeds scattered in the wind, he longed to reach out and snatch them back. One look at Glorfindel’s impish face told him he would rue the day he had ever uttered such foolishness.

 

That day was today.

 

~*~

The roaring fire in the hearth warmed the kitchen more than adequately, but Erestor could do little more than lie naked on the table and shiver. Somewhere over his left shoulder, Glorfindel banged around like a bull in a china shop, clanging and scraping until Erestor thought his last nerve would snap.

“Can we just get on with it?” snapped Erestor. He didn’t like being on display atop the kitchen table. After all, what if one of the cooks walked in and caught him in the altogether?

“Patience is a virtue,” came the singsong reply.

“I have no patience!”

“And from what I hear, no virtue either. Or was that rumor of you and Lindir really just idle chatter?”

Erestor grunted and sat up just in time to see a half-dressed Glorfindel staggering toward him, arms full of various bowls. He swallowed. Hard.

“W-what is that?” he squeaked.

Glorfindel flashed a brilliant smile and arranged the bowls in a semi circle on the table around Erestor’s feet. “They’re part of the deal. You said anything I wanted. With whipped cream. And a cherry.”

Erestor opened his mouth to protest, but a strong hand pushed him back down on the table. “Lie down.”

So, down he went, his back flat against the cool wood, and his long hair hanging over the edge of the table in an ebony fringe. Down near his feet, Glorfindel busied himself mixing up the contents of various bowls, tasting of this one and sniffing of that one. Erestor closed his eyes and sighed.

“Let’s see,” began Glorfindel, scooping up a large dollop of whipped cream and plopping it right in the center of Erestor’s abdomen.

“Oh, Goddess, you were serious,” Erestor moaned. The cream slid along his belly in little white rivulets, pooling in his navel, which Glorfindel graciously decorated with a red cherry.

“Very much so. Tell me again…what is your favorite tea?”

“Ginger,” came the annoyed reply. “What does that have to do with the price of Mithril in Moria?”

Glorfindel ignored the taunt. “And tell me what it is about ginger tea that you like so much?” As he spoke, the familiar scrape of a mortar and pestle could be heard as he vigorously set to grinding.

“Because it soothes the stomach and relieves indigestion.” Really. Any idiot knew that.

“And what if the ginger was used…topically?”

That question gave Erestor considerable pause. “Oh, well, I suppose some tingling and tightening of the skin would occur.”

By this time, the grinding had ceased and Glorfindel stood between Erestor’s outstretched legs, rubbing his thighs suggestively.

Erestor nearly forgot to breathe.

“Perfect. Try to relax,” purred Glorfindel, looking every bit like a hungry tiger. Which was apt, as Erestor felt like a fresh piece of meat.

“Glorfindel, I really must object. This simply isn’t professional…ooooh…” Whatever thoughts Erestor had considered putting to words fled the moment callused fingertips stroked over his inner thighs. Firm, masterful caresses urged his legs further apart. As fingertips explored and probed in a most unexpected manner, Erestor decided that he no longer gave a whit about professional behavior. Or anything else for that matter.

And then Glorfindel was lying atop him, his substantial weight pressing warm and firm against his bare skin. The rough leather of his riding breeches created a deliciously sinister friction against Erestor’s rapidly heating body, and he moaned softly in spite of himself.

Hands, warm and strong, slid lower, under his hips and along his most sensitive areas.

“Do you like?” breathed Glorfindel against Erestor’s near baking skin.

“Y-yes.”

“Then you will love this.” One thick finger, liberally coated with a cool poultice, eased slowly inside of him.

Erestor’s eyes popped open in alarm as the first hints of warmth began to spread throughout his body.

“That had better not be…”

“Ginger,” confirmed Glorfindel with the tiniest hint of a gloat. Deeper still inched the invading digit, swirling and caressing as it progressed.

Erestor braced his palms against Glorfindel’s broad chest and began to push desperately. "Ginger! Dear Elbereth! That will burn me alive!”

“Elbereth can’t save you now, my dear Erestor. So you might as well make the best of it,” chuckled Glorfindel in reply. Easily he caught both of Erestor’s wrists in his hand, thus ending the half-hearted fit that he had tried to pitch. Glorfindel strongly suspected it was just for show. Erestor knew it was.

By this time, the warmth inside of him had flamed to a full-fledge heat. Flames of white-hot pain fingered up from his thighs, snaking away from his abdomen, which quivered with each thrust of Glorfindel’s sinful finger. Much to his surprise, Erestor found that he enjoyed the rising heat in his loins. A lot.

And just when he thought he could no longer bear the sweet intensity of the swirling sensations, a swath of liquid silk slid gloriously over the head of his cock, up his belly and into the pool of whipped cream.

It was a heady cocktail of searing pain and delightful warmth that drove Erestor to screaming completion, and for a few shimmering seconds, he forgave Glorfindel.

Briefly.

~*~

“ERESTOR!!”

Elrond bellowed and slammed his book down in front of the distracted Chief Counselor, who first flinched and then winced in response to the sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry Elrond…I’m not feeling well,” came Erestor’s reply. The other Elves huddled in Elrond’s cramped study eyed him with undisguised curiosity.

Elrond was not impressed and arched a well-formed eyebrow as testament to his displeasure.

“You have done nothing but shift and twitch all morning long! Honestly! If there is somewhere more important that you need to be, then by all means go!”

Much to everyone’s shock, Erestor sprang up from his chair and shot out the door as if fired by a Gondorian catapult. He practically flung himself down the hall, repeating an odd phrase as he raced toward the bathing chambers.

Elves pressed themselves against the walls as he hurtled down the corridor like a stampeding buffalo.

“What was that he said?” asked Elladan as he peeled himself off of the wall. “Asses of fire?”

“No…Ass is on fire,” corrected Glorfindel with a grin.

“…And paybacks are a bitch!!” came Erestor's screaming reply just as the bathroom door slammed shut.


End file.
